Chapter Twenty-One: The Mountain Tribes

"Princess, what is this?"
"Meng, call me Bi'er."
It was only then that Meng Di noticed a carriage not far away, inside which sat an old woman whose gaze was cold and indifferent.
"Meng, I must leave with Master Zhu," Ji Mi said, her eyes shadowed with melancholy. "The Chief wishes to take us to the Ruins of Zhurong. This is my destiny."
Ever since hearing Zuo She’s words, Meng Di had harbored little fondness for the Witch Sect, but Ji Mi’s expression was one of devout sincerity.
"I’m glad I could see you again before I left, Meng. Can you call me Bi'er one more time?"
Meng Di felt as though he were about to lose her forever. Under Ji Mi’s hopeful gaze, he forced out the words with difficulty: "Bi'er, I will come to find you."
Ji Mi smiled with happiness, yet tears streamed from her eyes. She slowly backed away, boarded the carriage, but as it rolled on she continued to look back, watching until she faded from sight.
In the end, must we each walk our separate paths? Meng Di stretched out his hand, but grasped nothing; his heart was left hollow and empty.
He did not even know how he made his way back to the city. Jing Zhuo followed obediently behind, not daring to make a sound.
Upon returning to his room, he sat there in a daze until Dou Xin came looking for him.
Dou Xin sighed quietly, but Meng Di had already composed himself. Parting had always been inevitable; he just hadn’t expected it to come so quickly, so decisively. Only by growing strong himself—strong enough—would he be sure to meet her again one day.
"Did you come to see me especially, Lord Dou?" Meng Di asked, his voice calm.
Dou Xin was rather surprised and fixed his gaze on Meng Di. "The King commands you to travel as envoy to Yue and persuade them to attack Wu."
"The King has such vision?"
"Ahem, it was Lord Zi Xi’s suggestion," Dou Xin said awkwardly.
"When do I depart?"
"As soon as possible."
"So, Wu really has sent troops against Zheng." After a moment’s silence, Dou Xin spoke with a complicated expression. "The King seems to hold some prejudice against you. On this mission, you need not… need not return for now."
Unable to face Meng Di, Dou Xin forced the words out, then turned to leave. At the door, he added, "Your former subordinates are waiting outside. Let them accompany you as you go."
Former comrades! Meng Di cared little for the King's prejudice, but the chance to reunite with his old companions delighted him.

Spring was in full bloom; the mountains were a tapestry of fresh green. The party traveled light and fast, taking a side road straight toward the capital of Yue, Kuaiji.
The countryside was peaceful, with the sounds of chickens and dogs drifting through the air—no trace of war could be felt.
Those who had retreated with the defeated army to Sui were Xiao Wu, Xiao Liu, Gan Ying, and a few cavalrymen. The rest had either perished or vanished into the chaos of the age; to meet again seemed a distant hope.
Before departing, they visited the north of the city. Seeing Meng Di with a dozen spirited horsemen, Zuo She nodded with satisfaction.
Jing Zhuo, usually so carefree, was at this moment reluctant to part with Lian’er. The two had words for each other that seemed never-ending, and in the end, to the laughter of the others, Jing Zhuo rode away, cheeks flushed red.
Sitting atop a thick felt cushion, Meng Di toyed with a bamboo slip in his hands. Upon learning the reason for their journey, his companions were indignant, especially Xiao Wu and Xiao Liu, who loudly protested going to Yue, asking why they should risk their lives for Chu.
But having promised Dou Xin, Meng Di resolved to carry out the mission with all diligence—for Ji Mi’s sake if nothing else.
A commotion ahead interrupted Meng Di’s thoughts. He peered out the window: a crowd had gathered at a crossroads.
Jing Zhuo, ever eager for excitement, had already gone to investigate. Returning, he reported that the villagers had captured a Shanyue tribesman.
"Shanyue?" Meng Di's interest was piqued. According to Li, Yue was home to several tribes who lived wild in the mountains, resistant to civilization, and who often raided nearby villages. They were called the Shanyue.
Meng Di got out and approached the crowd. On the ground squatted a dusky-skinned child, hands wrapped around his head, his face bruised and battered, and eyes wide with fear. The villagers, noticing Meng Di’s arrival, hastily made way.
A man who seemed the village chief stepped forward respectfully. "Sir, how can we be of service?"
"This is a Shanyue? What do you plan to do with him?"
"As usual, hand him over to the authorities."
"Let us take him."
The villagers hesitated, but Meng Di signaled his attendants to give them some money, and then took the Shanyue child with them.
As the carriage rolled on, a small figure now curled up in the corner. Meng Di tried to speak with him, but the little Shanyue refused to answer, his gaze stubborn and wary.
There was nothing for it but to take things slowly.
Progress was slow indeed. Xiao Wu and Xiao Liu, curious, brought food to the child, but one baring of teeth sent them scurrying away.
Meng Di was unbothered. The journey was dull; taming the child would be something to pass the time.
One day, a sharp whistle echoed from the mountains. The little Shanyue’s ears pricked up; he listened intently.

"Sir, it seems something’s following us," one of the attendants reported through the curtain.
Suddenly—thwack—a feathered arrow struck the side of the carriage. The attendants hurried to guard the vehicle, eyes scanning the woods. Meng Di stepped out and casually plucked the arrow from the wood. The shaft was roughly made, the arrowhead shaped from bone.
None of the party seemed alarmed; having survived great battles, they had little fear of petty bandits.
The whistling in the forest grew in number and volume, drawing closer and closer—then, all at once, it stopped.
The abrupt change left the air thick with tension, as if something was about to leap out and tear them apart. The attendants grew uneasy as the atmosphere grew taut.
Meng Di smiled faintly and called out, "Enough with the tricks. Come out, all of you."
The forest fell silent, but the oppressive strangeness was gone. A moment later, a figure leapt down from the treetops.
Meng Di watched closely. The man’s face was painted in bright, swirling colors, his chest bare, a bamboo bow slung across his back, and a long sword in hand. He looked every bit the image of a tribesman.
So this was a Shanyue? Wait—Meng Di narrowed his eyes at the long sword.
Since arriving in this world, Meng Di had yet to find a suitable blade. Iron weaponry was only just beginning to appear in Chu; most arms were still bronze, brittle and short. Only a few master smiths could forge long bronze swords.
Clearly, this tribesman was no ordinary Shanyue, nor did he seem to be a simple bandit. As Meng Di turned, he saw a small, eager face peeking out the carriage window.
"Sir, may I have my daughter back?"
To Meng Di’s surprise, the Shanyue child was a girl. He lifted the curtain; she hesitated, then nimbly jumped from the carriage and ran to the tribesman, leaping into his arms and clinging to his neck. She whispered in his ear, glancing back at Meng Di as she spoke.
The tribesman’s expression softened. He set the girl down and bowed. "Thank you, sir, for saving my daughter and for your care along the way. Han Qu is in your debt."
"It was nothing. Brother Han, you don’t seem like typical Shanyue." It was remarkable there was no language barrier—wasn’t it said that the tribes of Yue spoke a dozen dialects, each different every few miles?
"There is a long story behind it. You have saved my daughter’s life, sir. Please, allow us to host you on the mountain, that we might show our gratitude."
Hearing such refined words from this rugged tribesman was incongruous, but Meng Di did not stand on ceremony. He left a few men to tend the horses and went up the mountain with Gan Ying and the others.
Though Han Qu was silent, he admired their courage and decisiveness. At his whistle, shadows flickered through the treetops—dozens of figures appeared, letting out a shout and leaping away, vanishing into the forest in an instant.